


Soap and Water

by talkingtothesky



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Bath Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-03
Updated: 2012-03-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 17:57:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1908429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/pseuds/talkingtothesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Gene in the bath together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soap and Water

The bath is definitely not big enough for the both of them.  
  
Sam's barely crouching at one end while Gene's got his bloody long legs stretched out, smug and proprietary as ever. Which would be infuriating enough if this weren't Sam's bathtub. Also, he's only in here because he managed to break the showerhead clean off the wall. Using Sam's skull. And there's not enough hot water left in the pipes for Sam to wait until Gene's finished.  
  
The wall tiles are incredibly grotty, no matter how many times Sam obsessively scrubs at them. They ought to give up on the flat and just go to Gene's house instead, but after they nearly got caught that one time Sam had said no more. He thinks wistfully of his spacious, sparkling white bathroom in 2006 and sighs.  
  
Gene flicks a mini tidal wave of water into Sam's face. "Are you getting in properly or do I have to drag you under?"  
  
"I would if you'd shift your sodding legs," Sam splutters, seizing one of Gene's ankles to steady himself. He swipes a hand down his face and gingerly manages to sit down in the little space Gene's left him, knees together. Gene snorts and calls him a girl and then his ankle gets wrenched from Sam's grip as he unceremoniously drags his legs up to rest the soles of his feet on the bottom, thighs splayed open. Sam's eyes are irresistibly drawn to his groin, but Gene's reaching over the side for a ciggie, oblivious.  
  
"Is there anywhere you  _don't_  smoke?"  
  
"Nope." He straightens up, leans back, the picture of contentment.  
  
"You're disgusting."  
  
His eyebrows waggle. "Good."  
  
Sam almost kicks him where it hurts. Gene jolts, swearing, water splashing up around his belly. Sam stops at the last moment, sets his heel down gently between Gene's legs instead. "That was mean, even for you!" Gene tells him, scandalized, and now it's Sam's turn to look smug.  
  
"My bath, my rules. You put that out or I put you out."  
  
"Blimey, Dorothy," Gene grumbles, but he pinches the end with damp fingers and drops it in the empty sink.  
  
"We're supposed to be getting clean, not leaving ash everywhere."  
  
"Fine." He slowly claps his hand down onto Sam's foot, fingers pressing into the top, thumb swiping roughly at the arch.   
  
Sam squirms, ticklish. "What...?"  
  
"I'm cleaning you." Gene says, matter-of-factly. He rubs in between Sam's toes efficiently, then switches to the ankle, firmly massaging there too.  
  
Sam's breath catches and he clutches the sides of the bath. "Don't you need...soap for that?"  
  
"'Course. Silly me." He stretches towards the sink again, rolls the bar of soap between his hands then places it on the side. It slips off and he catches it, applies it to Sam's skin directly. He sits a bit more upright and runs it along Sam's shin as far as he can reach.  
  
Sam snatches his leg back and bruises his knees as he rears up and dives down the length of the bath to kiss him. Water goes absolutely everywhere, and tomorrow the old woman in the flat below will most likely knock at his door complaining of leaks in her ceiling.  
  
Gene grunts into his mouth, slides his tongue against Sam's. Half-lying, half-kneeling between Gene's legs, Sam fears he's going to slip at any moment and probably knock them both out. Gene winds an arm around Sam's back and grips his side which helps to steady him a bit. From the sense of fluttering water behind him Sam guesses Gene's other hand is scrabbling around for the dropped soap. His suspicions are proved correct when Gene makes broad sweeps across his back, works up to his neck and down again, keeping his supporting arm in place all the time. Gasping, Sam breaks the kiss and buries his face in Gene's shoulder instead.  
  
"Gimme that." He tries to catch Gene's wandering hand and take the soap from him. Gene nips at his neck and gives it to him, after a brief tussle. Sam pushes himself back so he's kneeling upright, traces the soap around the base of Gene's throat several times and then moves downwards, over his shoulders and chest, pinching briefly at a puckered nipple, grinning at the resulting involuntary jerk of Gene's hips. The pale skin of Gene's stomach feels smoother than ever; Sam spends a long time appreciating Gene's girth with his fingers and tongue before he finally chucks the soap away and curls his fist around Gene's cock.  
  
Gene takes hold of Sam, too, and for a moment they just stare at each other, chests heaving, dripping wet. Then Sam pushes forward again, links their hands and cocks and rubs off in their combined grip, coming just after Gene does, quiet exhalation to Gene's shout.  
  
"My back is killing me," Gene groans, and Sam laughs, lets Gene stretch his legs out again, twisting around so he can lean back against Gene's chest. They're sitting in less than half the water they got in with.  
  
"Well, that was...enlightening."  
  
"Still mad at me for breaking your shower?"  
  
Sam says "Yes" which means  _of course not_  and knows Gene gets it when he wraps his arms around Sam's waist.


End file.
